Burning Lamps

Tonight, I have smoked my favourite cigarettes
with curtains drifted apart, I sit here with a glass of my taste
And as this lamp burn, I burn like the melting wax
And I begin to bleed, I bleed on my paper with hot wax on my cold skin
Tonight, the moon is drunk too, the stars are churning my pain
they see me collapsing, they see me drowning
My pen sees it too. It scribbles my inner verses like wounds
scorching like the Thar dessert
My fingers still write, my mouth spits vexatious taste
A taste of my forlorn tale.
I burn my pen, I burn my pen
I slit the paper, then fold it again
only to make a paper again,
And with this clandestine night, I have my companion.
So I burn along with this burning lamp.

In search of words I have missed, I discovered this one. I crave your poetry and sometimes I sit on your blog and reread pieces I have consumed and digested, just to taste them again. And then I find this. I love the opening lines, so natural and telling of the writer you are, and I could see you writing, through the blue haze of smoke, bleeding your words, your inner thoughts, your soul onto the paper. I love the image of slitting paper, maybe to make it bleed again, in a different way. There is something almost sensual about reading this and a slight feeling of guilt washes over me, as if I am a voyeur, watching you inhale that smoke and exhale such beautiful poetry, in that clandestine night. Is there any wonder why I love your words so much? You suffer those scorching wounds but you rain poetry that nourishes my soul. Absolutely beautiful!!!!!!!!!

You took out your precious time to read my blog this precisely.
I can not be more thankful to you Alex!
And clearly you have adorn
my work with great zenith through your sparkling words.
Your comments are really valuable and so poetic in itself.

It seems you have been so busy and I so craved your words. I can’t help it and will confess that I spend a lot of time reading you. Today it dawned on me that perhaps i had missed some older pieces and I was right. I love reading you closely because I get to know the poet herself better and what I discover at each turn, beneath each word, line and gorgeous image, is a beautiful soul. The honour is all mine but you are welcome to my commentary, always. Blessings, peace and love to you, Devika. Truly, you are an amazing woman.

I am on cloud nine today. All your comments will remain precious to me forever.
It means a lot if you come out specially to read my pieces. That satisfies me to the core.
You are an honest reader and a brilliant writer.
😊

Now you know how I feel when I get to bathe in your words – cloud nine! Your poetry is sacred for you, you are in every line. Your blog is a temple dedicated to your writing and I am humbled I am privy to those parts of yourself you wish to share. I hope you never stop writing and may the muse(s) around you, inspire you to continue to share those deepest parts of yourself so we may blissfully witness it transpire to paper. I am telling it like I feel. Just loving your work, so much.

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A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times.
Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied.
My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others.
Curator of Olive Skins.